Love is a scar that never heals
by tamzinrose
Summary: In the aftermath of Sketch, Maxxie isn't coping. Luckily for him, his friends won't let him be another casualty in the ranks of the Lost Boys.


They're in Tony's living room, trying out new pills Chris has got hold of, washing them down with booze liberated from parents' collections and shop shelves. A film's playing in the background, some fast pace car race with girls screaming in the passenger seats of cars driven by topless boys wearing sunglasses and smoking cigarettes; none of them are interested.

Sid and Cassie are slow dancing to music only they can hear, Sid's hands twined in Cass's hair, Cass's eyes closed and her head thrown back, laughing as they sway. Michelle's curled up in Tony's lap, lazily exploring the geography of his half naked body, mapped by the many before her, as well as those other intrepid explorers who try to conquer what's _hers_ when she's distracted and not defending her territory with harsh glares and possessive posturing. Jal's dozing in an armchair, one hand draped down to hold Chris's, his other hand holding a shot glass as he and Anwar match each other drink for drink, though Chris maintains that Anwar's a "fucking pussy" and he'll easily be able to out-drink him.

Tony pulls away suddenly, sits up. "Maxxie! What the fuck are you doing?"

He's backed into a corner, shaking all over, and he flinches at Tony's words, though it isn't obvious whether it's because of his tone or just the fact that he's being spoken to. He's been a little twitchy of late, working hard to disguise the after effects of Sketch while denying that there are any.

The others are content to pretend they don't notice, Chris being the only one to comment and appear at all concerned. It's mostly fairly small, subtle changes; the type that you wouldn't really notice unless you were looking and you knew what you were looking for. Maxxie's quieter, not quite cold but a little distant, withdrawn. He holds himself differently, more defensive body language now with his arms wrapped around himself or his knees drawn into his chest, or his shoulders slightly hunched like he's cowering. He doesn't dance much when they're out anymore. He seems uncomfortable with the attention, more so when guys attempt to flirt with him. Maxxie has literally run into Chris's arms to escape from guys who got a little too close. Chris knew it was best to take things like that in his stride, so he did, just wrapping his arms round Max and rocking him soothingly.

Chris puts down his shot glass and pads over to Maxxie, gazing with concern at the wild eyes and the tightly clenched fists. "Max? You all right?"

They're all staring and Maxxie can't bear it. Leaps up, rushes out into the street, but there's nowhere to go because people are looking, everyone's looking at him. He whirls back round, charges back into Tony's house and Chris is there, waiting. He moves to lock the door slower than his usual energy, out of consideration to the spooked blonde, but it still startles Maxxie. He's dizzy, panicky. He slumps back against the door, needs something solid behind him, because he doesn't feel safe.

Chris puts his hands on Max's shoulders. The other boy responds by staring at him in terror. "'s all right Max. I'm not gonna hurt you mate. I'm on your side. Trust me, yeah?" He gently guides them both so they're sitting on the doormat, their backs against the door, somehow managing to catch one of Maxxie's hands in his in the process. There's a protectiveness in Chris that worries about the vulnerability of people like Maxxie and won't let him sit back and pretend not to see like the rest of them. "Maybe you'd feel better if you took a couple of deep breaths. You wanna try that? Just…breathing?"

Maxxie's still pale and shaking, but Chris is being patient and tender and he doesn't feel so desperate now. It's only when he tries to take a deep breath that he realises how rapid and shallow his breathing is, how frantically his heart's beating. He watches Chris, tries to copy the rise and fall of his chest, struggles to calm down. "S-sorry." He mumbles, nowhere near making eye contact.

Chris beams at him. "No problem mate. It's happened to all of us. Not the creepy stalker thing. I mean freaking out. We've all been there. This one time, I was watching…I dunno, some crappy kids show. Really Wild Show or some shit. And there was this…this squid, yeah, like in this tank. And they were showing how it could open jars and squeeze through like, tiny spaces man, really fucking tiny. I was _freaked_ out. Course, it wasn't following me around taking my picture and poisoning my friends. I just turned the TV off… I'm not helping am I?"

"I'm fine." His voice is tight like it is when he's lying and trying not to sound hurt.

"Listen Max. I know it doesn't always seem like it, but we're here for you, okay? You've got us. Anwar's a dick every now and then. He's not doing it deliberately or anything, you know that, right? Just gets distracted in the pursuit of pussy. Just the typical teenage boy." He frowns. "And a lot of the time we seem anything but typical. All madcap adventures and teenage angst. More drama than the OC, that's what we've got. This past year more than most. You _can_ talk to us though. To me. Whenever. You know that, yeah? That I'm here?"

There's a long pause. "I…I don't want to be scared anymore." Maxxie can't keep the small half sob from escaping him.

Chris pulls the smaller boy into an embrace, holds him while he shakes and cries. Sid comes out to join them, tears shining in his eyes, and settles down the other side of Maxxie in a tangle of limbs that's somehow warm and loving and everything they need. Tony slips away a little later still, completing the group as the last of their lost boys. They know they won't mention this later. It's not that they're ashamed, they just…won't. Maxxie clings to Chris, Sid clings to Tony, Tony tries desperately to hold on to everyone and Chris, sensing his distress, shuffles forward a little to make them into a sort of circle, so no one's too far away.

Chris wishes someone had mentioned to needing this sooner. It's tragic that they're reaching the point of no return. Chris admits that he turned the other way when Sid was standing alone on a cliff and he's let Tony down in so many ways, but he had been determined not to let Maxxie fall apart like he's currently doing.

"I d-don't know what to d-do." Maxxie whimpers. Instantly his hands are held, someone playing with his hair as a familiar comfort, other arms pulling him close and holding him, protecting him. "I can't keep being s-scared."

"It's okay Maxxie. We're here now. We've got you."

"What can we do?"

"D-don't leave me. Don't leave m-me."

"Shh, we wouldn't, we wouldn't do that to you Max."

"When we're out…d-dancing… Everyone looks at me, and they…the crowd. There's too many people and there's not enough space and I c-can't."

Tony nods in understanding. "I didn't like it either Maxxie. Not at first. But you helped me, remember? We can help you too, if you let us."

"But the…there are guys and they…I can't trust them, I don't want them near me, I don't want anyone I don't k-know."

Chris's wolfish grin is comforting and alarming in equal measure. "I can stop that, mate. You wanna be left alone; I can sort that out, no problem. Just pretend you're mine, no problem."

"Could share, I spose." Sid offers along with a tentative smile.

"Yeah, love to. Been a long time since Russia." Tony adds with his signature smirk.

Maxxie's laugh is a shaky effort, still part cry. "Th-thanks. 'm sorry about all…this."

The others trip over themselves adding their own apologies, and reassurances that Max isn't to blame and doesn't need to feel guilty. Considering his circumstances, they completely understand the desire to keep strangers out of his life and as far away from him as possible; it's a relief that he hasn't stopped trusting them to make him safe, though he's a little uncertain around Anwar.

* * *

He's reluctant to let anyone into his bedroom. He spends as little time in there as possible. He keeps the blinds firmly closed, his back to the window and his mind on as many other things as he can think of to distract himself with. There are long, horrible nights where he can't sleep and if he does, he has bad dreams. Last night was one of those. Maxxie is tired and it shows; his mother looks up at his pale, drawn face and dark eyes as he shuffles into the kitchen, stumbling over Taz with none of the dancer's grace he usually possesses. His dad takes pity on him, says that he doesn't look very well and he should get himself back to bed, all tucked up until he's feeling better. Maxxie privately wonders when this fabled time of recovery will be.

He manages about an hour of restless sleep before Chris and Tony just let themselves in. Maxxie jerks awake when he hears the door open; his breath hitches in his throat and he stares in terror, his heart pounding, even when the threat should have passed as he recognises his friends.

"We were worried about you." Chris tells him, quietly, registering the degree of fear.

Tony, meanwhile, is checking out his room. The bare shelves, the ripped wallpaper, the clothes strewn haphazardly everywhere but the wardrobe. "Has your room always looked like this?" He asks, casually.

Max manages to shake his head. "T-tantrum." He gasps out. "C-can't…b-breathe."

"Shh. It's all right Maxxie. It's just us. We won't let anyone hurt you." Tony's voice is a soothing murmur Max has never heard from him before as Chris crosses the room to sit on the bed next to Max, gently leaning him forward and holding him. "Close your eyes and just listen to me. You're safe here. I _promise_ you Maxxie. You're safe. We've got you and nothing bad is going to happen. Just keep breathing, nice and slow. It's okay. Take as long as you need. We'll be here."

It's a struggle, but he does eventually manage to overcome the panic. He keeps his eyes closed and Tony keeps talking, even as Chris guides him to lie back down against his pillows. Maxxie struggles, not wanting to sleep; it's one thing to deal with fears when he's awake but entirely another in his dreams.

"Hey, Max. You really need to get some sleep." Tony says softly, less of a suggestion than an order.

"N-no. I'm fine."

"We can stay right here, if that's what you're worried about." Chris is still sitting on the bed next to him, gentle hands on his shoulders to restrain him. Tony is on the floor, leaning back against the bed, one arm stretched up and back to hold Maxxie's hand. "We can stay right here and I can tell Tony all about this guy I know who likes to fuck kebab meat."

"That's…disturbing."

"What? Oh, come on, you're hardly vanilla."

Tony scoffs. "There's kinky and then there's perverted. There's a whole world of difference between wanting a bit of fun and being a fucking weirdo Chris."

"Hey! He's a perfect gentleman, I'll have you know! He gives up his seat for old ladies on the bus and everything."

"He's one of _your_ friends Chris. Don't try to argue for his normality."

Maxxie drifts off to sleep to the familiar murmur of his friends, bantering back and forth, teasing and trading halfhearted insults. When he wakes again later, Tony isn't there but Chris is grinning at him in his usual way.

"Tony's in your kitchen. He didn't want to trust me with anything electrical or edible, because he said I'd just fuck it up and it'd be a waste and he'd end up having to do it anyway, so what was the point? He's probably right, though, to be fair, but I think sometimes you're all way too closed minded. What's wrong with a little bit of experimentation, you know?"

Tony wanders back in, carrying three mugs of tea. "When most people talk about experimentation, they mean drugs and sex. I think trying everything once is fine, as long as it doesn't involve Chris Miles in the kitchen." He watches Chris help a sleepy looking Maxxie sit up before passing them their mugs. "You've been out of it for about five hours. We tried to play I Spy, but _some_one was hallucinating, then we tried to play Associations, but _some_one refused to accept that the game has rules and isn't just the first thing that comes into your drug addled mind." He pauses, sips thoughtfully at his tea. "Essentially, I've been bored."

"Only boring people get bored." Chris mutters back, petulantly, glowering at the carpet. He's still bitter about the game playing.

"You didn't have to stay."

"Yeah. You needed us."

Max frowns. "What about Michelle?"

"Cassie broke up with Sid, again, so she went to give him a pity shag."

"And you're okay with that?"

Tony wears his trademark smirk, condescending and smug. "He's my best friend; someone needs to take care of him. Besides, it's not like Michelle and I are forever anyway. With only a few months left hanging around here, there's an expiration date on our relationship."

"You've broken up before."

"True. If we couldn't manage to stay together in the same place, we'd never stand up to the long distance thing, and we don't really want to try. We're ending as friends, instead of drifting apart and growing resentful."

It is true that they _are_ all drifting apart and the distance will only get greater, the visits infrequent and the phone calls shorter, increasingly filled with awkward silences. Very soon, they will not be the same people anymore. Maxxie doesn't like to think about a time when he won't have friends who will sit on his bedroom floor when he's been having nightmares.


End file.
